Sometime later she was sitting on the floor, head between her knees, when she heard a key in the lock. Jumping to her feet, she waited for the door to open. Five seconds...ten...nothing happened. Going to the door, Summer tested the lock; it was open. She hadn’t even heard the door being unlocked.

The hallway was empty, but hanging on the outside of the doorknob was Sara’s favorite scrunchie. Summer slipped it onto her wrist and ran.

What if she missed them, what if they left without her? What would happen without her mother here to protect her? Who would she belong to? The answer to that was so terrifying she ran faster. It was late—maybe midnight; everyone else was in bed. Would this be the last time she ran through these halls? If she failed at this, they would never let her see the outside again; she knew that deep in her gut, because she would never stop trying to leave and she would never do what they said. They had killed her mother, and they would kill her, too, for refusing to marry Taured. As she approached the old sign that still said Chapel with all its letters, she made a sign of the cross like her mother sometimes used to do. She could hear voices, faintly, like they were coming from outside instead of Taured’s office. But no—as she neared the door and pressed her ear to the wood, she could hear them inside. Sara’s father, Taured and three other voices she didn’t recognize: two men and a woman. They were outsiders, the timbre and tone unfamiliar to her. She placed her hand over the doorknob and blew out the contents of her lungs.

Her forehead was touching the door as she prayed to her mother’s God, pleaded with him to help her. The god behind the door was a falsehood, a killer, and his people worshipped him out of fear. She didn’t know what life would meet her past the doors of the compound, but she wasn’t afraid of it.